Dining Out Can Happen Down Below
by itsafour
Summary: It seems like Monica and Chandler share an oral fixation. - Set in some random point of early season 8.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: This happens in some random point on season 8. Maybe it's a little weird, I don't know, but I wanted to let it out anyway, so I might as well post it here hahah It's loosely inspired by the song Where Life Begins, by Madonna. I hope it's somehow enjoyable.**_

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Monica was always torn between considering herself a lucky lady or concluding destiny was paying its debt with her; her love life hadn't always been that great after all.

She had been a late starter, what with being teased for being overweight during teenage years and the tendency to over-romanticize every prospect of relationship. She had only _"given her flower"_ away when she was over 20. Her sexual desire was constantly on fire though – she was fairly sexually charged, even before doing it, and sure, maybe she started late, but she was a fast learner. Not long after her first time she knew she was pretty good at it.

Yep, she was actually amazing at it. She knew exactly what to do to make a man go crazy in bed. She was good at all the stuff. It was like a natural talent or something. The hips movements were always sharp, sucking dick was both a fun and devoted activity, and she was able to try a variety of positions – she couldn't put her legs over her head anymore like Phoebe still could ( _wow, seriously_ ), however, she was bendy enough.

Monica had felt pretty ill-treated by life though. Not only had she met a hoard of men who were terrible in bed, she had also had to endure what seemed like an endless dry spell that had lasted a year. Being that sexually driven didn't help – she had come to the point of losing the will to touch herself after a while, being too depressed to even try.

And then… London happened. Chandler Bing happened. Wow, who would've thought, really? He was always talking shit about himself, belittling his skills; she'd always thought he would be too awkward in bed. Maybe he had been awkward in bed up until that fateful day when she taught him a little lesson about female sexuality. She could never have guessed she would eventually profit from that class, reaping what she had unconsciously sown when in fact her teaching was supposed to benefit another woman.

The first night in London had been by far one of the best sexual encounters in her life. It was as if he had tried really hard to impress her – she couldn't be more flattered. He touched her right, with his fingers, with his hands, cupping her breasts both softly and thoroughly, his dick entering her through lovingly pointed movements (she almost felt like complimenting him on the spot, but that would've killed the mood) and, especially, oh so very especially, his mouth was a blessing.

Getting her pussy eaten had never felt that great before that moment. Well, she'd always loved that part, obviously. The thing is: the men in her life had never been that good in that particular area. She had been able to enjoy their effort most of the times, although mostly because she had been forcing herself to. What a surprise when she noticed that wasn't necessary with Chandler. She shuddered just by remembering the very first moment his lips had trailed down her body, reaching her navel, then lowering to her inner thighs, alternating between kisses and bites; she felt she was about to lose her mind the moment his tongue landed on her entrance.

The thing about Chandler was that he enjoyed doing that. She could tell by his eyes tightly shut and the ecstatic expression on his face just how much he loved that part. There was something especially hot about being with a man who loved your taste, and that's what she had with Chandler.

So they'd obviously gotten together – no way in hell she would ever let a man like that go. And they had dated and they had gotten engaged and they had finally gotten married in a beautiful ceremony. That little special something that fell on her lap (no pun intended) in London was now part of her life. That's why even after all the bad experiences in her love life, she felt somehow lucky. For sure, many women would kill to have a man like the one she had at home.

Monica rode the subway with her mind filled with such thoughts, and for a moment she wondered what she would do if someone with a mind-reading super power neared her – she would probably be embarrassed as hell; or maybe proud? She giggled at how silly she was being all by herself.

"There you are!" Chandler greeted his wife with a huge grin – they were a married couple who saw each other every day, but he always looked the happiest when they met after a long day of being apart because of work.

"Hi, sweetie", she smiled at him before having her lips captured by her man.

Monica had a very weird relationship with eating. It was definitely the biggest pleasure in her life. How ironic was it that her husband enjoyed eating just as much, in all the possible meanings the word "eating" might entail.

The small talking mixed with how exhausted she was made her mind drift. When she came home after a hard day of work, Monica could swear all she could think about was her husband's lips on her. It was amazing how she never had to ask. He could sense her needs and was always willing to give her what she wanted, looking as satisfied as her at the end. For a chef who worked hard on creating meals, it was nice knowing dining out could happen down below, in the comfort of her home sweet home. She chuckled by herself at her own silent dirty puns – _Chandler's humor is rubbing off on me_.

When she realized what was happening, she was already in her room, lying down on her soft mattress, fully dressed from the waist up, however everything from the waist down hastily taken off – panties still hanging on her ankles; said ankles at the end of a pair of legs resting on broad, soft shoulders. Said shoulders connected to velvety-skinned arms that ended on the smoothest hands ever with the softest fingertips that happened to be massaging the previously mentioned legs. The aforementioned upper limbs belonged to the man between her legs, who lapped on her juices as if he was eating the most delicious meal ever – _macaroni and cheese? Nothing compared to this_ , she could tell by his hungry face. The noises that left her mouth in moments like that were akin to the ones she allowed to be uttered when she made herself those delicious oatmeal cookies allegedly from Phoebe's gradma's recipe. The satisfaction that came from eating was as intense as the one from getting eaten. _It seems like my husband and I share an oral fixation._

Sometimes he would penetrate her with fingers while licking her clitoris. That was amazing too, but since what he really loved was eating her out, the most useful cutlery was his tongue. He had a very sensitive tongue; he couldn't stand hot food or anything too spicy. Her taste seemed to be good enough for him – actually perfect. One might expect the woman to be the one making all the noises; definitely not the case here. The magic touch was the mixing of psychological reactions with the physical ones. Ascertaining your man enjoys getting his tongue on you: that works wonders on itself. Actually feeling his moans causing vibrations against your entrance: oh yeah, that's the extra flavor. No need for fingers whatsoever.

It didn't take long for her to come. By the sated look on his face, if someone else walked on them, that person might take a guess and say he had come too.

She panted, the orgasm allowing the exhaustion from work to take its toll on her. Monica worried about Chandler's dinner though.

"Honey…" It was a struggle even opening her eyes "Are you hungry? I can make dinner for you."

"No no no, don't worry." Chandler kissed the corner of her mouth, then her forehead. "I just had a finger-licking good meal." He grinned at his own innuendo.

She wanted to smack him for daring to say such cheesy things out loud. Well, the smacking could wait until the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: I wasn't planning on adding another chapter but once again it felt incomplete without Chandler's version haha**_

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Chandler had never been picky about sex. About the women he would date? Yes. About any possibility of sex? Not at all. You know that thing they say about pizza? That average pizza is still pizza so it's still good? Yeah, he used to believe it was the same with sex. Even if it wasn't the best experience in the world, he would still count himself lucky for having sex anyway.

He was 23 when he first touched a naked woman, but he was 29 when he finally understood how a woman's body worked. The second statement was even more embarrassing to admit, even worse than being a male with no sex for over 20 years of life. One would think that having such unabashedly sexual parents would help him have more familiarity about that not so holy activity that stemmed from reproduction, but nope, being a child of those two only made him awkward about it. He had been completely clueless about sex through teenage years, loneliness (and, well, porn) being his only company and source of knowledge.

Clearly, the most terrible way to learn anything.

To top that off, there was that thing about men and penetration; since that part was so awesome for him, it would be as awesome for the ladies, right? It wasn't until one day when he had a very special private lesson on female sexuality from his experienced neighbor that he realized the truth: nope, not at all. Chandler found out in minutes that even fingers brushing on specific spots on a girl's neck could be enough of a turn on – hell, even words could do it, and when he saw Monica getting all worked up about her own lesson he realized how different men and women really were.

That put his whole sex life into perspective, and made him realize that yeah, maybe all those terrible experiences had been partly his fault. When he had Kathy, he was able to take it to the next level. Being with her was almost like macaroni and cheese made by Monica on a Friday night with restaurant leftovers. Then she had cheated on him (his friends constantly told him that her cheating wasn't his fault, so he tried to adjust the memory to that mindset). When they had broken up, he thought he was doomed for good, and sex would be like that pizza that Joey kept in the fridge for days and he ate it for being too lazy to cook anything. He had resigned; he had never been that great at cooking anyway.

Then, London happened. Monica Geller happened. Of course he had always thought she was hot. Having sex with her almost made his brain explode though. He had honestly believed that what he'd had with Kathy had been the best thing in his life, and nothing better would ever come up. He was very happy for being so wrong.

Never a compulsive kind of guy before, being with Monica turned his life around. It was like being in a party with the most delicious meals in the world – he just wanted to taste everything, enjoy the moment to the fullest, eat every piece of every cake and pie until he was passing out for being too full. During those hours they spent together he'd thought for a moment that he might never get enough of it, which led them to seven times in one night – _pretty impressive even for Joey_ , Chandler reveled in that thought.

Monica was able to turn him into a very different man from what he used to be. For one, she was full of energy, so so so extremely horny, in a way that urged him to try and keep up with her rhythm. She was also unbelievably skillful when it came to love-making. The things she had done… Some of those things Chandler hadn't even known were possible; one night with her was enough to make him feel like his sexual life prior to that moment was too tame. The way she moved was out of this world. The way she made loud noises while being fucked had him making noises too. The way she touched whatever she wanted whenever she wanted baffled him in the best way possible. The way she had out of the blue put all of him inside her mouth, even licking his balls, creating the most pleasurable mess of saliva and semen… at that moment he could only conclude Monica might have spoiled porn for life.

And he thanked all the nice gods and gentle deities that allowed him to keep that woman around. They had actually gotten married, had been married for a couple of months now – which was nothing when he remembered they've been living together for over two years, _wow, where did time go?_ – and he still couldn't believe she was his.

 _Isn't it amazing how my mind is already in the gutter and I'm not even awake yet?_ For some reason, there was a Chandler's Sex Life recap going on inside his mind first thing in the morning. He smirked at how lame he was, enjoying the warmth coming from his wife's body. She wouldn't work that day, and Chandler was very ready to call in sick. Being at home with her all day long was the best – there was always sex and great food, sometimes both mixing. His daydreaming about later plans was interrupted by subtle movements from the body against his. He could tell by her breathing that she was awake too.

"Morning." He told her when she turned around to look at his eyes and kiss him. They smiled at each other, but soon he felt her hands trailing down his stomach and he knew where they were going. It seemed like the morning wood would not be wasted this time.

Monica was a chef for a reason. She enjoyed bearing the power in her restaurant, the same way she did in bed. She savored being in control, creating stuff for people to eat, being worshipped for giving them one of the most primal forms of pleasure. It worked wonders for Chandler; for all he knew, he could worship all of her forever. Being between her legs was definitely one of the things that hardened his dick in a minute. That London night had been the turning point for him, when he learned that no food would ever taste as good as her pussy; he had almost automatically become addicted to that taste. She had totally elevated his appetite, given him one more thing to eat, and suddenly he could understand why so many people indulge their oral fixation. Eating was awesome. Licking her up had become an urge as strong as smoking. He felt weird about it, however, match made in heaven: Monica also had a thing with her mouth. Before being a chef, she had a thing with eating. It showed in every aspect of her life, but especially whenever she decided to get off from her position of being the chef, the one who provided everybody with the tasteful dishes, and decided to taste something herself. That was when she could return to her favorite activities, like stuffing her mouth with as many different cookie flavors as possible; except the thing in her mouth at that moment wasn't a cookie; except that instead of tasting different flavors, she seemed to be addicted to just one.

Chandler had never had a woman suck him off like she did. Of course oral sex was part of most of his sexual encounters, but he had sometimes felt like the girl he had been seeing had just been doing him a favor. That was not the case with Monica. She never did anything she didn't want to please him – everything she did to please him happened to please her too.

How she fingered herself and rubbed her own clitoris when she had him in her mouth was proof enough of that.

Not only Monica was capable of coming while making him come, she got off on teasing him up until spontaneous combustion point. She never started by engulfing him. Instead, she liked to lick his balls thoroughly first, sometimes even getting them both inside her mouth. When she was in the mood for torture, the licking would happen over underwear – her cruelty should never be underestimated. She usually made a show of not touching the rest of his member until it was completely stiff and pulsating from the stimulation. Only then she would tug on the boxers – or the tighty-whities, which had the kind of fabric that was great for the licking part, and for that, despite Joey's judging, Chandler had even bought more. Having all of him inside her mouth would be the near-the-end step. That was also that one moment when she didn't try to keep things clean. The more glistening his penis was the more pushed over the edge both of them would be. He liked to enjoy the physical sensations, but he would never turn down that privileged view. All the passion she used to approach everything in life was right there. He had seen home videos of her eating ding dongs without taking the tinfoil off, just gorging herself on everything with a fulfilled expression resting on her face. He had to admit he found the whole thing oddly arousing, the way those thin lips were capable of holding so much. When she sucked his dick it was just the same. Coming in her mouth was the cherry on top, so amazingly good that neither would even mind the semen dripping from her parted lips – or the kiss that followed it.

He was enjoying the relaxation that usually came after his orgasm, not even sure about what he had been thinking anymore. _It was something about eating, right?_ Whatever it was, his mind shut down when she turned around to sit on his face. He might have changed a lot over the years, but for sure he never was one to reject breakfast in bed; there was no danger of spilling either.


End file.
